Adulthood
by Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Bruce wakes up to find a very drunk Tim in the manor, and some long ignored issues come to light.


I don't own anything.

* * *

Bruce awoke sharply to a thump.

He was a light sleeper, so it didn't take a lot to rouse him from sleep. He sat up in bed, at once alert and straining his ears to listen. He heard a few more thumps sounding from somewhere in the manor, along with some muffled grumbles and curses. He released the breath he'd been holding. Someone dumb enough to make that much noise surely couldn't be an intruder.

Bruce got out of bed and padded towards the living room down the hall. He wasn't on guard or anything, for his instincts told him it was one of his children. He knew it wasn't Damian because he was fast asleep in his room where he had checked in on him an hour ago. It wasn't Cass for obvious reasons. And couldn't be Dick because he was in Bludhaven at the moment, which left either Jason or Tim.

When he got to the living room, Bruce flicked on the light switch and illuminated the culprit.

"Tim?"

Tim was slumped against the wall, holding a bottle of tequila in one hand while the other clutched a floor lamp to keep himself from falling over. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a tangled mess. His clothes looked rumpled, which was widely out of character for him. Tim always tried his hardest to look put together.

Tim spotted Bruce in the doorway, and his mouth dropped into a lopsided grin. "Hiya Bruce, wassup?" he drawled. He tried taking a step forward, but he stumbled. Bruce lunged forward and caught him before he could hit the floor. He reeked of booze.

"You're drunk."

Tim shook his head vigorously. "Me? Drunk? Naw, I've never drunk anything in my whole life," he slurred. Then he blinked a few times and looked around. He leaned in close to Bruce's ear. "Okay, maybe I drank a little," he loudly whispered. He fell into a fit of giggles.

Tim's legs turned to jelly and he started to fall again, so Bruce was the only thing holding him upright at this point. He carried him to the couch and dropped him as gently as he could. Tim immediately curled up and buried his face into the cushions.

Bruce sat next to him. He grabbed the bottle of alcohol Tim held, but Tim refused to give it up. He cradled the bottle to his chest like a precious object. "Y'know, Broose, you never... ya never told me how _good_ tequila was. Now I feel all floaty." He started laughing again.

Bruce made another grab for the tequila and took it from Tim. He'd drunken almost all of it. "Tim, where did you get this?" Tim had never been a drinker, though he'd only turned 21 two days ago. But even below the drinking age, all of his kids had tried to smuggle in alcohol at one point or other. But not Tim.

Tim kept his face buried in the couch cushions. "Jay... He gave me a buncha stuff for my birthday. So now I got _lotsa_ it in my apartment."

Bruce made a mental note to call Jason later and yell at him, but priorities first. "And you decided to consume an entire bottle of tequila because?"

"Mmph. Three."

"What?"

Tim turned his head so Bruce could see one of his eyes. "I think it was three of 'em. That's my third bottle I drunk tonight." He hiccupped.

Bruce's eyes widened. "Three? Tim, do you know how dangerous that is? You could have gotten alcohol poisoning or gotten into a car accident on your way here! How did you make it here anyway?"

"Tooka cab," Tim answered tiredly. He hiccupped again, which started a whole new round of giggles.

Bruce sighed. These kids were going to be the death of him for sure. He patted Tim's leg and got up from the couch. "Stay," he ordered. "I'm going to make you some coffee, try to get you sobered up, okay?" Tim held up a thumb, but it was a little sideways. Bruce gave him a hard look. "Stay," he repeated. When Tim still didn't move, Bruce nodded to himself, satisfied, and went to the kitchen.

As he prepared the coffee, something kept nagging at him. There was something... _off_ about Tim tonight. And not just the fact that he was drunk off his ass.

Tim was always so collected, so in control of his actions. He was the last person Bruce would have expected to find intoxicated, because that just wasn't something Tim _did_. Especially not drinking three bottles of tequila only to come to the manor. Why didn't he just stay at his apartment?

Bruce had drilled it into all his children how to drink responsibly, so Tim had known already that he shouldn't have drunk that much, and he _definitely_ knew that he should have stayed at his apartment and called Bruce or one of his siblings if he needed to.

So knowing Tim, this was just not right. Not to mention how odd he seemed even behind the drunken behavior. He would only drink like this if either he were goaded to do it by someone else or there was something bothering him. And judging by the fact that he came to the manor alone, it was clearly the latter.

When the coffee was finished, Bruce carried the mug back to the living room. Tim was still curled up on the couch right where he left him. Bruce sat next to him and nudged his side. "Here champ, drink some coffee. It'll make you feel better."

Tim grunted and sat up. His eyes drooped, but he gave Bruce another sideways grin. "Thanks, Bruce." He sipped at the mug.

Bruce sat back and pulled Tim into his side, keeping an arm around his shoulders so he stayed upright. "So," he started, "how come you decided to drink an entire liquor cabinet tonight?"

Tim's head lolled and fell on Bruce's shoulder. He started intently at his mug of coffee as if it contained answers. After a long pause, he said, "Do you think I'm boring?"

Bruce blinked. "Boring? Of course not. Who said you were boring?"

The mug started slipping from Tim's limp hands, so Bruce took it from his grasp and laid it on the side table to avoid a spill. Tim's hands dropped onto his lap. "I dunno. You're Batman," he murmured. "Dick was a world famous acrobat. Jason beat death itself. Cassie is one of the greatest fighters in the world, and the demon is a son of the Waynes and the Al Ghuls. You're all super cool an' accomplished and stuff, and then... then there's me."

His eyes were drooping, but focused. He stared across the room at nothing in particular.

He paused and absently pulled at his sleeve. "I mean, what have I ever done? Like, none of the stuff I've done has ever been important or anythin'. I'm just that random kid who filled in as Robin for a while and then got kicked out once they found a 'placement. I haven't done anything cool or worthwhile or important like all a'you guys."

Bruce knew that wasn't true. He knew Tim was important. He knew that without Tim, Batman would be a much worse, darker person. He knew Tim mattered. But he also knew that that was in no way how Tim saw himself. Yes, this was just inebriated rambling, but these were the things that lay under the surface. And it killed Bruce to know that this was what Tim truly thought of himself.

Tim looked like he was going to say more, but then his face paled. He stiffened and squeezed his eyes shut, covering his mouth with his hand.

"Tim?"

Tim clenched his jaw and gagged. "Think I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled. He gagged again and shot up from the couch, sprinting to the nearest bathroom.

When Bruce found Tim seconds later, he was hunched over the toilet retching. Bruce sighed. Poor kid was going to have a killer hangover come morning. He went to the medicine cabinet and retrieved some aspirin along with a cup of water for Tim.

It took forever, but eventually Tim seemed to finish puking. He spat once more into the toilet before falling back and sitting beside Bruce. He wordlessly took the offered aspirin and water, making a face when he swallowed.

"Ugh, my head hurts."

"Well, that'll happen when you decide to get blackout drunk on tequila," Bruce remarked.

Tim just grunted.

After a few more minutes when Tim was sure he wasn't going to throw up again, Bruce led him back to the living room so they'd be in close enough proximity to the bathroom in case he got sick again. Tim sank into the couch cushions with a huff. He kept his eyes closed against the headache. He yawned, and Bruce knew he should let him get some sleep, but something still bothered him.

"Tim," Bruce said gently. Tim looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. "What happened tonight?"

Tim just shrugged and grunted. "Nothin."

"Nothing?"

Tim nodded sluggishly, but Bruce knew otherwise. "Come on, Tim, you really expect me to believe that?"

Tim went silent for a long time, so long that Bruce was starting to wonder if Tim had fallen asleep. But then he spoke again, his voice quiet.

"I just... I always expected things to be easier than this," he muttered. "I knew what I was getting into when I became your par'ner, but... Is life really supposed to be this hard? Is it like a rite of passage or whatever - you have to suffer a little and the universe will take it easy on you later?"

Bruce bit the inside of his cheek and held Tim a little tighter. Tim didn't notice and rambled on.

His words started spilling out at a faster pace. "I mean, I thought that would have been the case by now. I lost my parents, my friends, Robin, and I guess I just thought the universe woulda taken the hint and given me a break by now, but it hasn't and I'm- I'm still here for some reason. And y'know I turned 21 the other day? 21 years old. I... I never even thought I'd live that long. I thought I would have died before I even got to 18, but for some stupid reason I haven't. And-and it's just so much harder than I thought it would be. Being an adult... I never worried 'bout it 'cause I never thought I'd make it that far, but I did. And now I have all these responsibilities and everyone is expecting me to be great when really I'm wishing I'd just given up and killed myself a long time ago 'cause now I have no idea what I'm doing and-and..."

Tim cut off, not being able to go on. Taking a shuddering breath, he turned his head and buried it in Bruce's chest. His voice was muffled when he said, "Everything's just so hard."

Bruce didn't know what to say, so he didn't speak. He simply put a hand on the back of Tim's head and held him tighter, wishing he could do something to fix this, even though he had no idea how.

They sat like that in silence, the only sounds being Tim's occasional shuddering breath. Bruce wished Dick were here. He had always been the one who understood Tim and managed to provide comfort when he needed it. Bruce wasn't as good with that - dealing with feelings. But he'd be damned if he didn't try. So he stayed there holding his son, hoping it would be enough.

Tim's breathing evened after a short while, but Bruce knew he wasn't really asleep.

"Tim?"

Tim yawned. "Yeah?"

"Why did you come here tonight?"

Tim sniffed. "Dunno... Jus' didn't want to be by myself," he answered quietly.

Bruce exhaled deeply through his nose. "Okay," he said. "Then you won't have to."

He settled back into the couch, keeping his arm around Tim. He would be there as long as Tim needed, he'd make sure of that.


End file.
